


Hanging onto Something

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bones Fusion, Caretaking, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, mention of ofc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: Memories are painful, and so is reliving them, especially aloud. Even to a Hunk, alone, it hurts.Something about Shiro, even just a quick grin from him, soothes a lot of it, though.Or, real quick Bones AU with a feel-good scene.





	Hanging onto Something

**Author's Note:**

> I've started over Bones recently, and I had this burning desire to write out the balcony scene in _S01E22: The Woman in Limbo_. 
> 
> [Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7k1rWZQbbU).

                “And when Tess was gone –” he cuts himself off abruptly with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, movement jerky, despite not being stiff. He sags a little against the railing, ignoring the chastising voice in his head that tells him the fall is a bit too steep to be leaning on what’s keeping him up, and sighs. He licks his lips when the words don’t just magically pop out of his mouth, eyelids shuttering shut. It’s an effort to draw up anything, and he’s been talking about this stuff _all_ _damn day_.

 

                A lot of this shit is stuff he either hasn’t rehashed in years, or things he never even said, things that never left his mind. He talks and talks, about everything and anything, as long as it isn’t _this_ , and as long as he can distance himself from it. Today has been harder, reliving the memories, and then having to articulate them. There’s something a little freeing, to be able to share these memories, to reminiscence aloud on all of the little details he remembers, but a lot of it is painful, constricting as well. The words get stuck in his throat, the images bring tears to his eyes, and he was panicking just earlier when he tried to remember what his mother’s favorite perfume was – what it smelled like, was called, even what the bottle it came in looked like – and couldn’t.

 

                But everyone here… is being so understanding. He yelled earlier, and they’re still working, still doing this for him. Hunk is still here, still listening to him, still watching him with soft eyes that tell him he’s listening, patient, waiting for what Lance has to say, even if it never comes out. It feels like a little too much, a pressure, but it’s actually just enough to get him to finish off what he was saying.

 

                He opens his eyes, watching the way Hunk waits, says nothing, and continues. “All at once, nobody cared. Where I was, I mean. Or put in the effort to keep tabs on me and how I was feeling. She was my last tether to any kind of care for my wellbeing and when she left, it was as if someone ripped that away. I could do anything I wanted, no matter how _stupid_ –” he squeezes his eyes shut briefly in the flashes of memories pressing to the forefront of his mind, of everything he did, for attention, or simply because he could. When he opens his eyes, he’s staring to the side, away from Hunk. “I miss that, you know? Someone caring, always. Always wanting to know where I am, making sure I’m safe, making sure I’m feeling alright.”

 

                And it isn’t like he doesn’t know that Hunk doesn’t care. Hell, it isn’t as if the whole department just beneath him doesn’t care. It’s something else, though, more than just that caring. It’s checking up, even when nothing has gone wrong recently, it’s texts to make sure he’s home, it’s a swipe of a palm over his cheek or a quick hug to keep him touched and pleased. He and Hunk are friends and that’s not something he’s complaining about, but what he wants is –

 

                “Lance!”

 

                He steps from the railing to look over the edge at the voice calling his name. He already knows who the voice is, but he’s still a little shocked to see Shiro staring up at him. And more than that, the way that he breaks into a small smile when they make eye contact, gaze not once breaking that to stray and glance over at Hunk. Lance’s fingers twist, gripping the metal of the railing, at the flutter in his chest. It’s abrupt and different, the warmth that smile teases him with, than the mood of the conversation he was just having – something chillier, like a wet, rainy day in early winter.

 

                “Like that?” Hunk suggests, quiet enough that only Lance can hear, and it… is. What he’s describing is the same as what Shiro has been doing since Lance had been briefly kidnapped and threatened a few months ago. He just hadn’t noticed as much, maybe, because it’s partly a thing that Shiro’s been building up, steadily, covertly without Lance’s full awareness.

 

                He can practically feel the knuckles of his hands going white with how hard he’s holding onto the railing. He turns to Hunk and nods, opening his mouth to answer that, somehow, maybe ask if Hunk has noticed it, or if he too only just made the connection just now.

 

                Before he can, however, Shiro claps his hands, drawing their attention again, and he’s not actively smiling anymore, but there is warmth in his eyes still, and it sparks something in Lance’s gut. “Come down here with me – I found the Agent that was assigned your parents’ case.”

 

                He glances at Hunk, who’s watching him, amused, and plucks his fingers from the railing so he can make his way down. He’s been getting that expression from Hunk, especially when it comes to Shiro, way too often lately.

**Author's Note:**

> [my shance tumblr](https://www.tumblr.cryingovershance.com/) if you want it.


End file.
